


To Rise to the Occasion

by Ponderosa



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Drugs, Erectile Dysfunction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surely a single uncooperative limb does not render a man useless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Rise to the Occasion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blue Soaring (autoschediastic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoschediastic/gifts).



> For the prompts: limp, twitch

In concert they looked down at Holmes's prick. It rested comfortably against Holmes's bare thigh oblivious to the mute accusations hurled upon its limp form. A twitch failed to bring tumescence, the feeble motion no more than a slumbering man's momentary stirring.

Holmes's gaze leapt up as his prick did not. "It would be unkind to judge me by my present state, Watson."

"I have no other state by which to judge you," Watson said, the reply not as quick to his tongue as one might expect. He found himself distracted, not as he was a moment ago by the naked expanse of Holmes's torso, but as a medical doctor. Holmes had not faked the eagerness of his kisses, yet his ardour had failed to reach what was by all accounts the first part of a man to react to even the slightest attention.

An attention at which Watson's own member soon ceased to stand. He frowned thoughtfully.

"Have you no imagination?" Holmes took hold of his soft cock, stretched it as if to illustrate the lengths to which it might grow. Abandoning the attempt when something about Watson's bearing revealed him unswayed, Holmes set a hand to the bed and sought to rise in a manner over which he had more control. "Perhaps a drawing or similar would stimulate your uninspired mind."

Watson caught him above the elbow before he could slip from the bed to fetch a ruler or, worse still, retrieve pen and ink to make good on the promise of a rendering. "Perhaps you merely have more substances in you than I was able to detect. We should pinpoint the culprit as we can always," he paused, unable to still the quirk of his lips, "bring up the current matter again some time in the future."

"Nonsense," Holmes said, quite sharply, rolling to his knees and bracketing Watson's injured leg with both of his own. He placed a hand above the stiffness of Watson's knee, the gesture not without a purpose keenly evident. In their haste to retire to the bed to better explore the breadth of each other's shoulders and the depth of each other's kisses, Holmes had proved quite careful not to put undue strain on a limb that had seen so much stress of late. "A time as fortuitous as the present will not be found for eight days, twelve if the weather makes a turn for the better. My cock may have chosen to reveal its ample charms to you at a later date, however I can assure you that the remainder of my body will not follow suit. Surely a single uncooperative limb does not render a man useless."

"No." Goaded as he imagined was the purpose to the snide challenge in Holmes's tone, Watson's pulse sped. The fresh surge of blood in his veins raised both his ire and, in the instant Holmes returned to the space beside him with knees up and spread, his flagging erection.

"Certain as I was before this unfortunate delay that you'd discover quite precisely the depths to which I can sink, shall we see to going about this in an alternate manner?"

Watson forced Holmes's knees together and shoved them with no small measure of force to the side. As if using Watson's strength to his own advantage, Holmes went easily. He rolled towards his belly in such a manner that Watson's blood surged anew. The wanton twist of Holmes's body spoke to the basest parts of him, a devilish whisper that sought to have him shove at Holmes again and take him crudely.

The curve of Holmes's arse presented with so little shame as he drew one leg upward to invite a closer look proved to be Watson's salvation and downfall both. Pure wickedness prompted Watson to follow with gaze and form and he eased himself in place behind the well-muscled stretch of Holmes's back, a breath hanging on his lips. Words faltered as he placed a hand high on Holmes's side, drawing a shiver up through the warm skin beneath his palm. It hardly seemed in the realm of possibility for Holmes to find such pleasure in the simple caress and yet Watson could not deny the soft hitch of Holmes's breath and how his spine bowed in response to it, his leg drawing higher still to reveal the fine dark hairs and the enticing blush of his arsehole.

"Holmes," he voiced as best he could when breath eluded him. He might have staved off his manful urges but the soft rustle of Holmes gathering a pillow to his chest, readying himself as it were, threatened the very limits of an already tenuous control.

"Waste no further time, Watson, you'll find me liberally prepared." The soft puff of Holmes's breath caused a tremor in Watson's hand. "Quickly now, while you've still thoughts of buggering me with little technique but an excess of vigour."

Watson swallowed past the sudden dryness that had overtaken his mouth. "As you would have it," he rasped, moulding his body to Holmes's. He took Holmes at his word and pressed the very head of his cock firmly to hot flesh that proved slick and welcoming. His open mouth travelled along the attractive slope of muscle that fanned towards Holmes's shoulder, and he found his pleasure in the startled but determinedly not pained sound that Holmes sought to muffle in his pillow.

The gentleman in him was appalled at how readily he took the liberties Holmes's body provided. He penetrated Holmes in a series of smooth thrusts, which was as Holmes had implied to a depth that required little restraint on his part at all. Each successive smack of his hips against Holmes's well-fleshed arse only served to encourage him to further avail himself of those liberties until he fucked Holmes with hardly a thought beyond how pleasurably the tight sheathe of Holmes's body stroked him. A fine sweat gathered high on Watson's chest, his gasping breath punctuating the rapid slap of their coupling and it was only the oddly plaintive sound leaking from Holmes's lips that caused Watson to slow his pace.

Striking with the speed of a snake, Holmes flung an arm down to grip Watson's hand and somehow hold it even more firmly against the cut of his hip. "Slow if you must but if you cease entirely I will be extremely cross with you."

"Holmes, can you even--?" By the tremor that rippled through Holmes's body, it mattered not, and that same tremor transferred from him to Watson at the thought. Certainly not all men remained stiff whilst being buggered, however Holmes's condition was not merely psychological. For him to want this so desperately without the promise of his own release caused Watson's pulse to pound at an alarming rate.

Forced to measure Holmes's enthusiasm through little more than the urgency of his grip and the desirous bucking of his hips, Watson found himself seeking a more punishing rhythm. Encouraged by the lusty sounds Holmes fed him, he curled an arm snugly around Holmes.

"Yes," Holmes murmured, the word purring out of him, "leverage well applied will--" The remainder of his sentence was lost to a gasp. Between one moment and the next he went lax. He remained alert though all the tension had fled from his limbs and he now lay soft and willing to be used as Watson pleased. It was as if he had orgasmed and yet a hasty grope revealed no evidence, his prick still soft, dry, and easily engulfed along with his sac in Watson's cupped hand.

Watson opened his mouth to question and could find nothing to say. While Holmes no longer eagerly met the shove of his cock, his breath remained quick, soft moans escaping and once or twice amongst them the whispered sound of Watson's given name. His hand no longer gripped to Watson's wrist, having moved to curl over Watson's fingers, hold them there to what should be his shame and yet seemed nothing of the sort.

It was this that brought Watson quickly to his peak. Holmes's eternal ability to surprise him, draw a thrill out of him in the unlikeliest of circumstances at times drove Watson mad, and truly to abuse Holmes's body so viciously in the relentless pursuit of only his own pleasure was a sort of madness. Before the hot blaze of pleasure engulfed him fully he wrenched his hand free to catch Holmes by the chin and twist him towards a kiss.

Their mouths hardly met, more a brush of his to the very corner of Holmes's and the mingling of their breaths, and yet the gust of his name whispered once more off Holmes's tongue was near as satisfying as the spill of his come pushed so deep inside Holmes's body.

They lay together, hardly moving, feeble kisses shared when one or the other could muster the energy. It was Holmes who drew away first but before Watson was able to settle comfortably on his back Holmes was a satiated curl at his side, Holmes's arm and a good deal of his weight settling companionably over Watson's chest. How a man could be so fulfilled was beyond him, a puzzle Watson did not have the slightest inclination to unravel at the moment.

Pinned so thoroughly as he was he could barely move, and for the life of him, he was glad of it.


End file.
